“Goddammit, Julio.” Beto glared at him. “I was trying to keep people calm!”

  “You were trying to run shit while your dad is unconscious.”

  She glanced at the men around her. Julio, Beto, all the various Lopez cousins—they were all ready to come to blows. There was no plan in place—as far as she knew—for who would take over after Lopez’s death. Declan ran things, but the orders came from Lopez. Without him, there was no one to call the shots.

  Not until one of these guys decided to take charge. She watched as Beto put a hand on the gun at his waist. He’d never seemed particularly interested in taking over for his dad, but maybe he was about to get interested.

  Maisie discreetly reached out and wrapped her fingers around Lennon’s wrist. He jumped, just barely, but recovered quickly.

  She slowly stepped away from Julio and Beto. Lennon moved with her.

  Beto’s eyes slid briefly to her, but Julio stepped forward, getting in his face. He lost interest in Maisie.

  Well, at least there were some benefits to everyone thinking she was harmless.

  She maintained an even pace until they were outside the hospital doors. She let go of Lennon’s wrist. He fell into step beside her.

  “Is this bad?” he asked.

  “Could be fine.”

  “You’re practically running.”

  “I have short legs.”

  “Are those guys about to fight for control of the Lopez family?”

  “I’m sure they’ll cool down in a minute,” she lied. She glanced over her shoulder. No one was following them. She let out a breath and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She texted Hadley.

  Are you alone?

  Yes. Why?

  We’re coming to you.

  “I don’t mean to sound, uh, selfish, but are we still going to be able to get to the northern gate in”—he looked down at his bare wrist, seeming to forget that there was nothing there—“uh, however long we have left? Less than forty-eight hours?”

  “Not now, Lennon.”

  * * *

  —

  “What do you mean, unconscious?” Hadley blinked, wide-eyed.

  “That’s what they said,” Maisie said.

  Hadley slowly sat down in her chair. They were in the studio, an old song playing softly from the speakers. Lennon stood in the doorway. He kept fidgeting with his shirt—pulling on the collar, tugging a piece at the bottom around his finger—and then suddenly stopping, like he didn’t want anyone to notice he was nervous.

  “They really didn’t tell you?” Maisie tried to keep the suspicion out of her voice, but Hadley looked at her sharply.

  “No. I wouldn’t have kept that from you.”

  “You know your cousins are about to start knifing each other. Julio, especially.”

  “What else is new?” Hadley tried to sound flippant, but she chewed on her lower lip.

  “Can I ask a question?” Lennon asked.

  Maisie sighed. “Why not?”

  “On the outside, I heard that Lopez was technically the head of the family, but he wasn’t really in charge. That was your dad, wasn’t it?” he asked Maisie.

  “He was the enforcer, but Lopez made the decisions,” Maisie said carefully.

  “It’s fine,” Hadley said, rolling her eyes. “Yes, Isaac Rojas was technically second-in-command, but everyone knew he was the one calling most of the shots.”

  “They were a team,” Maisie said. “They’d been best friends since they were kids. My dad said that he’d always known that Lopez was a genius, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that the guy who could save us all was protected.”

  “And he had a few guys that were like his second-in-command,” Hadley said. “They helped him keep everything in order. But they all died in the bus accident, and we’ve been winging it since.”

  “Bus accident?” Lennon repeated.

  “Bus flipped over during heavy rain last year, killed everyone on board,” Hadley said.

  “Oh.” Lennon cast a sympathetic glance at Maisie. She looked away.

  “Our intelligence said that you were being groomed to take over for your father,” Lennon said. “Was that wrong?”

  “It wasn’t wrong,” she said bitterly. “They decided I couldn’t cut it.”

  “That’s not it,” Hadley protested. “It’s because she was only seventeen when he died.”

  Maisie shrugged. She’d doubted it would have mattered if her dad had lived until she was fifty. Declan was only twenty-two. But she didn’t command respect the way Declan did. The way her dad had.

  There’s nothing wrong with sticking with what you’re good at, Declan had said to her, in that gentle voice he only used with her. He hadn’t specified what exactly she was good at. Following orders, maybe.

  “Who took over for your dad, then?” Lennon asked.

  “Declan,” she replied.

  “Your ex-boyfriend, Declan? The one…?” He tugged at the bottom of his shirt.

  Hadley looked from Lennon to Maisie with a start. “Did you give him a rundown on your dating history?”

  “No. I just gave him Declan’s clothes.”

  “Did you guys have a heart-to-heart last night?” Hadley’s lips twitched. “Now I’m sad I didn’t come over.”

  “We did not have a heart-to-heart,” Maisie said. She looked at Lennon. “Declan took over for my dad, though it’s not quite the same.”

  “Lopez calls all the shots,” Hadley said. “Declan just takes orders and yells at everyone.”

  “So with Lopez out of commission, there’s no clear leader? Even if Declan is fine?”

  Maisie and Hadley exchanged a glance.

  “I mean, it’s complicated,” Hadley said.

  “No, you’re right,” Maisie said. “Most of the Lopezes wouldn’t just line up behind Declan and let him take charge. A bunch of them trained under him as doctors, and the rest all run things. Like how Hadley controls all the information that goes out.” She gestured at her. “Ceding that power to Declan is unlikely.”

  “There are better choices,” Hadley grumbled. Her phone beeped, and she lifted it to read the message. “They’re calling a meeting.”

  Maisie looked down at her own phone.

  Family meeting, 10 a.m. Beto’s.

  * * *

  —

  Maisie deposited Lennon at her apartment before heading to the meeting. She didn’t entirely trust him to stay put, but she also couldn’t bring him to a family meeting. Outsiders weren’t allowed. And a dude from beyond the wall really wasn’t allowed.

  Beto Lopez lived in a giant house on the west side of town. Maisie had never understood why people liked being in those houses. She liked her small apartment, with a view of the city. It was easy to keep clean.

  And it felt safe. Two doors, one with a dead bolt and the other five stories up. She didn’t worry for her safety much these days, but she had vivid memories of the years right after the walls went up. Her dad once killed two men in one night, after they both tried to break in, hours apart.

  Things were fine now, but she was always preparing for when they wouldn’t be.

  Hector, one of Lopez’s nephews, greeted her at the door, gun in hand.

  It was going to be that kind of meeting.

  Hadley was already there, sitting on one of the giant couches in the living room. The back windows showed off views of the massive backyard. Beto’s boyfriend, Owen, sat outside in the grass with a few of the younger Lopez cousins.

  Her phone buzzed. A text from Declan.

  I’m fine. Had to dig some of my guys out of rubble. Where are you?

  She rolled her eyes and slipped her phone back into her pocket. It was just like Declan to not bother texting her back for twelve hours, even though her last text had literally read: text me so I know you’re not dead.

  Maisie sat down next to Hadley. The room was starting to fill up, but Declan wasn’t there. She wondered if he’d been invited.

  Maisie leaned closer to Hadley, speaking softly. “You know I’m on your side, right?”

  Hadley turned to her, clearly surprised.

  “I’m on your side. I don’t know if this is going to turn into a Declan-versus-Lopez-supporter thing, but I’m with you guys. I just want you to know that.”

  Hadley smiled, then bumped her shoulder against Maisie’s. “I know.”

  “Good.”

  “I think Declan’s going to be very disappointed to hear that, though.”

  Maisie just shrugged. She couldn’t argue. Declan always had been oblivious—or indifferent—to her feelings about most everything.

  “I told you not to date him,” Hadley said, barely suppressing a smile.

  “Are you ever going to stop reminding me of that?”

  “Nope.”

  Maisie watched as more people streamed in. Alan and Leticia, also Hadley’s cousins, walked into the room. Leticia’s arm was in a cast, her face bruised. She’d had a close call yesterday.

  Alan nodded at Hadley before glancing down at Maisie.

  “Your arm looks weird,” he said.

  “Your face looks weird,” she retorted. Hadley snorted.

  Beto walked to the center of the room, his face grim. Silence fell over the crowd.

  “It’s true that my dad is still unconscious,” he said. “But it’s because he’s in a medically induced coma. The doctors expect to bring him out of it within the next few hours.”

  Maisie released a slow breath. That was better news than she’d been expecting.

  “I’ve heard from Declan, and he’s fine,” Beto continued.

  A few people looked around the room, like they were expecting Declan to be there.

  “Why would you lie about Uncle Franco?” Hadley asked. She was slumped down on the couch, arms crossed over her chest.

  “I was trying to keep everyone calm,” Beto said. “The doctors told me they were optimistic. People hear the word coma and think the worst.”

  “Half of us are doctors, jackass,” Hector said.

  Beto reddened. “Well, the other half aren’t. Not to mention all the people we’re trying to keep safe.”

  “Speaking of, are we going to go after the fucking Reapers?” Leticia asked. “They executed a coordinated hit on the family.”

  “Yes. We should do that now,” Beto said. “Julio, take some guys and—”

  “Wait, wait,” Maisie interrupted. “You can’t just roll over to the Reapers now. They did serious damage, and they’ll be expecting us. You need to do some recon, coordinate the attack so you don’t lose even more people.”

  Beto shifted from foot to foot. He was trying to appear confident, but Maisie knew him too well. He kept lifting his hand to his mouth to bite his fingernails, and then quickly stopping himself.

  “She’s right,” Julio said. “Do you have a plan? Or do you just want us to roll in there, guns blazing?”

  “We need to start assessing damage, too,” Leticia said before Beto could respond. “You realize that they hit the warehouse where we had grain shipments? Most of our stock was destroyed. And they burned a bunch of our greenhouses. We don’t have new shipments coming in, and our supplies are dwindling to the point that people are starting to notice.”

  “Was there ever a plan to find out what was happening with the shipments?” Hector asked. “What was Declan doing about that?” He looked at Maisie when he asked, like she’d ever been able to convince Declan to do anything.

  She lifted her hands. “You’d have to ask him. I just collect rent.”

  “Let’s all just calm down,” Beto said. “Julio, send people out to do some recon. See what the Reapers are up to right now. Hadley, put out an announcement that everyone who is missing friends or family needs to go to the hospital to identify bodies. We need to let people know exactly how much damage the Reapers did. They need to know that they’re not safe with them.”

  “That’ll be a cheerful announcement.” Hadley made a face.

  “And the shipment problems?” Hector asked. “We can live without the food shipment, but we need the medical one.”

  “No one is dying today, are they?” Beto asked.

  “No,” Hector muttered.

  “Then let’s just table that for a day. Find out what Declan’s plan was.”

  “And what about Lennon?” Maisie asked.

  Beto stared at her. “Damn. I forgot all about that guy.”

  “Where is he, even?” Leticia asked.

  “I let him stay with me last night,” she said. “He’s still expecting that we’ll transport him to the northern gate. Are we doing that?”

  “Hell no, we’re not doing that,” Hector said.

  “Uncle Franco had his reasons for wanting to get him out of here,” Hadley said.

  “Well, he never told me what those reasons were, so that’s too bad,” Beto said. “Unless you want to take him up there yourself, we can’t spare a team.”

  Maisie let out a short, humorless laugh. “No, thanks.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Beto said.

  “What are we going to do with him?” Hadley asked.

  “Maisie, go see Betsy about vacancies. I think there are a few apartments open.”

  “You do realize that his father is a US senator?” Hadley said. “Maybe the next president? We’re just going to keep him here against his will? You don’t think that might end badly for us?”

  Beto made an annoyed sound. “Listen, if the dude wants to go to the northern gate, he can be my guest. Give him a map and tell him to have at it.”

  Maisie glanced at Hadley. They both knew how that would end. Lennon probably wouldn’t make it a mile into Spencer territory.

  “I’ll let him know,” Maisie said.

  The sound of the door opening made them all turn.

  “Oh, shit,” Hadley said.

  Two men in black masks stood in the doorway.

  Holding machine guns.

  LENNON

  MAISIE TOLD LENNON to stay in her apartment.

  But, honestly, the way she’d said it gave him the impression that she didn’t actually think he would listen.

  She was right.

  He spent about ten minutes staring out the window before leaving, pulling the door shut behind him. He heard the lock click into place.

  He jogged down the stairs and to the street. It was a clear, slightly cool day. Really nice weather for November. He’d rarely been to Texas, but he’d heard that the quarantine zone was unbearably hot about six months out of the year. He desperately hoped he wouldn’t be around to experience that for himself.

  Maisie lived in the center of what was once downtown Austin, and he spotted a few things that advertised the zone’s roots. A sign for the Austin library. ATX carved into a sidewalk. People still talked about rebuilding Austin.

  Of course, that would require a cure for everyone inside, which hadn’t happened.

  Or a bombing.

  Some of the old storefronts on the street were boarded up, and he kept walking, turning a corner until he was in a more crowded area. There were some street vendors here—a small group of people selling fruits and vegetables, and a man selling some “healing balms” that looked suspiciously like plain lotion to Lennon.

  A woman was standing at a cart advertising churros, and he slowed as he walked by. She clamped her tongs together a few times, gesturing at the churros.

  “¿Quieres un churro?” she asked, then shook her head and said, “Do you want one?”

  “No, thank you.” He spoke some Spanish, but he nearly always felt too self-conscious to speak it around people unless he absolutely had to. He was pretty sure that his accent was terrible.

  She sighed.

  “I mean, I would, but I don’t have any money. Or, uh, credits. You call them credits, right?”

  The wrinkles at the sides of her eyes became more pronounced as she peered at him. “Huh?”

  “Nothing. Sorry. Ignore me.” He flashed her a smile.

  “Put that away.” She wagged the tongs at him.

  “What?” he asked, confused.

  “That smile. You’re trying to get a free churro, aren’t you? It won’t work on me.”

  “I wasn’t!”

  “Sure you weren’t.”

  “This is just how I smile.” He showed her again.

  She snorted, dug the tongs into the cart, and produced a churro. She slipped it into a paper sleeve and held it out to him.

  “No, no, that’s okay,” he protested. “I really don’t have any way to pay you.”

  “Take it. They’re not selling well today anyway. I’ll have to throw half of them out tonight.”

  “Thank you.” He took the churro. “That’s very kind of you.”

  “You’re that guy who fell from the sky, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “Is it obvious?” He took a bite of the warm churro and brushed sugar from his lips.

  “Yes.”

  He looked down at himself. He hadn’t realized he looked so out of place.

  “Thank you for the churro,” he said again. “I appreciate it.”

  She waved her hand. “That’s all right.”

  He kept walking, wandering down a street full of theaters advertising their latest plays and musicals. He’d had no idea that live theater was such a draw in the Q. He made a note to share that later. People would love it.

  His dad would love it the most, actually. His father used to take him and his sisters to the theater all the time when they were younger. Lennon would always get in trouble for making too much noise while eating his candy, or for falling asleep.